His Bella
by allthatimlivingfor
Summary: Bella was never changed after Edward left in New Moon, and she lived out her human life. But was she happy and was it the life she would have chosen?


What's the point of moving on, if you can't make it past the first step? I've asked myself that question so many times over my long life, that i've eventually stopped looking for the answer.

It's stupid of me to come back here. Foolish and idiotic. What did I hope to accomplish by coming back to where it all began-and ended? The short, happiest six months of my life, such a miniscule number compared to the seventy-nine years I've lived. But what's the point of all those years, if you would trade it all in a heartbeat ,to be with the one you loved for only another moment?

I sighed in defeat, knowing I had asked myself that so many times and had yet to find an answer.

My life had not been easy, but it had not been relatively hard either. It was nothing physical that caused me my pain; it was all emotional. But sometimes, when I thought about it long and hard, the emotional aches would turn into physical pangs, every cell reaching out for it's other half, the other half that had been missing most of my life.

I sighed again, longer, pain leaking into the air and filling the silence.

It was hard, being in this house, and realizing all over again that I had never gotten over Edward Cullen.

And I had tried. I had tried so hard to erase the memory of his "I love you's" , of his golden eyes staring into my soul. I longed to forget his beautiful, crooked smile, his perfect skin, always seventeen. I wished I could no longer remember his protectiveness, his soft way of understanding me, his loving and giving personality.

I wished I had never met him.

But even as I thought those harsh words, I knew immediately I didn't mean them. No matter how much grief it caused me, I would always love him, always want to picture his face in my long-ago memories.

I choked back a sob, my old lungs rattling, reminding me again how far I was from being seventeen. My rocking chair squeaked as I slowly eased my arthritic bones out of the seat and made my way to the small mirror hanging in my foyer.

I gently winced as my reflection hit me. Gone was the girl with flowing, brown hair and lovely,chocolate eyes that sparkled. Gone was the girl with creamy skin and a youthful glow in her cheeks.

A tear slowly escaped down my cheek as I thought of how I had my chance to stay that way forever, with my loving adopted family and the love of my existence.

I stared hard at myself, noting the short, pure-white hair, and the faded, brown eyes. The sad, wrinkled skin that sagged, and the aura of sorrow. This was me, this was Bella. But I wasn't _his_ Bella. I was a Bella that would soon die, with no one left in the world who loved her.

I shook my head, my throat closing up, and quietly dragged myself back to my chair, resting my eyes. I thought of my husband and my children, and all that I wasn't able to give them.

I wished I had been able to love Carl, been able to devote myself fully to him and our adoring kids. But, in the end, all regrets are fruitless. My children knew I loved them and that was all I could ask for. Yet, in the back of my mind lurked a wish that I hadn't even dared put into words.

I knew I had come here to die, to bring everything full circle. What better place to lay down and rest, than the place where my life had really began and ended? I knew I was lying to myself, at least part of it was false. I was really here, hoping, wishing, that I would get to see Edward Cullen again.

Part of me as revolted. Why would I want him to see me like this, withered and old and broken?

I was torn in half, but the first half was quickly winning out. Every fiber yearned to be with him again, to see him one more time before I died. But I knew it was impossible.

TWELVE WEEKS LATER

I was closer to death with every breath. I could feel it in each shuddering gasp I took in. I was old and my weak immune sytem could barely fight off a cold. No amount of any anti-biotics or cough syrup would help, and finally, after a couple of weeks, my doctor and given me a sad smile and said, "To have such a small cold destroy you; I guess you have to want to die."

That had described me perfectly. After weeks of waiting patiently for Edward, I had given up. But I didn't want to sound so weak. I should say after waiting 62 years and some-odd weeks, I grew tired of waiting for something that would never come.

It was night and I could hear, barely, with my failing ears, the soft cooing of a baby robin. A smile worked at forming across my mouth but I couldn't manage it. My face fell and I took comfort in imagining the stars above my head, twinkling brightly, telling me goodbye. How I wished, suddenly, to see the stars one more time.

Intuitively, I knew it was the night I was going to die. I felt peaceful, with a tiny bit of regret and yearning still stirring madly in my heart. I ignored it, with litle success and drew in another breath. I was startled when I heard a creak beside my window.

With every muscle straining, and my full lungs wheezing, I turned my head to the open window and saw the full moon shining, borrowing light form the sun. It struck me then, how I had borrowed all my strength from something that barely took notice that I was there. I smiled softly at the moon, amazed at how alike we were.

I heard a stifled gasp and my half-deaf ears stretched towards the sound.

"Who's there?" I croaked, my throat rasping.

A shadow appeared inside the window and I still didn't get it. I hadn't hoped in so long.

The shadow swayed inside off the long branch outside and landed out of my range of sight.

"Show yourself," I demanded quietly, my heart beating fast

"Bella," a smooth voice breathed, filled with anguish, still hiding in the dark.

My faded eyes filled with tears and I cried out, "Edward."

He was at my bedside and holding my hand before I even blinked. His shoulders were shaking with dry sobs. "What have I done?" he cried out.

"Shh," I tried to say. I felt whole again, more alive than I had felt in all my long, hard-filled years on Earth. I clutched his pale hand and held it to my face. I began crying, tears slidng down my cheek and onto the bed. "It's not your fault."

"I love you. I have always loved you," he whispered, bending down to my side, his angiushed, grief-filled face filling my view. I knew he was telling the truth. I had always known. I glanced at his beautiful, teenage face. My memory hadn't done me justice.

"I love you, too. All these years," I struggled to say, coughing. I sighed, so whole, happy my final wish had been granted. Suddenly, I frowned. The stars. I lifted my other hand and shakily pointed to the sky. "The stars."

He understood and carefully pulled me out of bed and into his arms. He paused a second, burying his face in my hair. I tightened my weak grip on his arms, holding on for dear life. Maybe this really was what was keeping me alive. "Hurry."

He walked the couple of steps to the balcony and held me up, facing the sky. I watched in awe as the stars gleamed brighter and sparkled, showering us with grace. I sighed, content. "Beautiful."

"I love you," he said, again, gazing at my face. I felt self-conscious, looking away. He gently turned me back to him. "Don't. You're beautiful."

I felt it, too, in those final moments that we gazed at each other. Even in the middle of all that pain and grief, there was happiness and love. This was where we belonged. This was what was meant to be. I felt myself letting go and I know he did too. We were part of each other, two halves of a whole.

His eyes widened in panic.

I brushed my quivering hand against his cheek. "Live. For me." My final words.

I dimly heard him sob, saying over and over, "I'm sorry, Bella. So sorry."

I died while listening to my angel's velvet voice.


End file.
